


The Cost of Love

by infiniteangel24



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 10:26:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1601537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infiniteangel24/pseuds/infiniteangel24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short tale of Jean's suffering after Marco is lost to the war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cost of Love

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a a creative writing assignment for class after a friend suggested I write something with Jean and Marco.

            Jean stood over a closed casket with a tissue in his hand. They decided it would be best to keep the casket closed considering the amount of damage that was done to the body. Jean had been crying for days; no one was able to stop his tears. He rested a hand on the American flag that covered the casket and rolled the fabric between his fingers.

            Marco had been overseas for three years with the US Army. His dreams of helping people became a reality when he enlisted and was sent to help in the fight against terrorism. Though he knew it was dangerous and he would be leaving behind his life for a while, Marco never lost that sparkle in his eyes. When he knew he could be making a difference he didn’t care about what happened to him. The only thing that worried him was leaving Jean alone.

           Jean and Marco met in high school and bonded quicker than either expected too. Just before their senior year, they grew to be much more than friends. Once they graduated, Jean insisted that Marco move in with him and they lived together for two years until Marco went off to training. When Jean got news that Marco would be heading overseas he made every effort to go and see his love, but it was no use. The news had come too late and Marco was already gone. Several days later Jean received a letter from Marco and they agreed to never stop sending each other letters until Marco returned home.

            Then, the letter stopped coming. Jean grew more and more terrified as the days pasted until there was a knock on the door. Two soldiers, dressed in uniform, delivered the news to Jean, handing him a flag and expressing their sorrow for his loss. Once the door was closed and the soldiers were gone Jean sank to the floor and wept into the flag.

            Jean felt a slight pressure on his solder that caused him to look up from the casket. He had been crying again.

            “Jean?” A worried voice wafted up to his ears pulling him out of his thoughts. “It’s going to be okay. Please, pull yourself together a bit. You know he wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

            Jean looked down at the blonde with a mixture of sadness and gratitude. “Thank you Armin. You’re right.” He was choking back tears that had begun to pool in the back of his eyes. “You all must think I am a total wuss now, huh?”

            Armin sighed. “Jean, no one does. We all know how important Marco was and still is to you. It’s okay to be sad and cry. Everyone has emotions you know.”

            Jean nodded his head and gave his dear friend a hug. Armin had been there for him the most after Marco’s passing and Jean was truly grateful for that. “Thank you Armin,” tears began to fall down his cheeks again. “Thank you for everything.”

            Armin gave him a tender smile and asked to pay his respects to Marco. Jean obliged and decided it would be best to get a drink; he could feel how dry his throat was from crying. He took one last glance at Marco’s casket then exited the room for some air.

            Out in the hall some of the others were talking softly about Marco. Some were telling tales of how they knew the man or where they met. Others were sharing stories of how Marco had changed their lives for the better. Jean felt even more sorrow wash over him. Marco wasn’t just dear it him but to everyone he came in contact with.

            After getting a drink form the fountain in the hall a small group of people approached Jean. Two of the girls had been crying and were holding tissues tightly in their hands. The others, a young man and woman, stood next to each of the girls comforting them and giving Jean apologetic looks.

            “Oh Jean we are so sorry for your loss,” the taller of the two girls who had been crying finally spoke. “We know how dear Marco was to you. It’s just so hard to accept that we will never see his shining face again.” She began to sob barley getting those last few words out in time; her dark brown hair sticking to her face. Her husband, a shorter man with clean cut military look, began fussing over her in attempts to make her calm back down.

            The woman that had been standing with the other girl decided to take this opportunity to speak. “It was an honor getting to serve with him for some time. We were in training together and once we both moved out there I was handed a desk job and he was shoved out onto the field. It should have been the other way around. He was too sweet.” Her voice became tense at those last words and the little blond girl standing next to her pulled her into a hug.

            “Thank you Sasha, Connie, Ymir, Historia, for coming out here to pay your respects. Marco would be so happy to see you all doing well.” Jean was holding back tears again. Ymir’s words were weighing on him heavily and it was obvious to the others.

            Connie and his wife Sasha wished him well one last time before heading back into the room where the viewing was taking place. Ymir and Historia explained that they had to catch a flight to Texas in an hour and apologized for not being able to attend the funeral the next day. Jean thanked them for coming and wished them a safe trip. After they left he returned to Marco’s side in the room.

            The rest of the viewing was a blur to Jean. It was like Jean had been set on autopilot in an attempt to avoid anymore sorrow. His friends came and offered their condolences which Jean accepted, generally with some tears or some small talk afterwards. Armin never left Jean’s side. He knew that Jean was hurting more than he ever had and Armin did not want him to do something stupid or feel alone.

            Once the time for visitation had passed, Jean stayed behind a bit longer to make sure everyone cleared out of the building. He stood over Marco’s casket and took the flag in his hand again. “Why did you have to join the military,” he whimpered. His hand was trembling and he fell to his knees in front of the casket. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye…” His voice trailed off as he began to cry again.

            Armin had been waiting quietly in the parking lot for Jean to emerge from the building. When he finally did Armin’s heart fell at the shape he was in. Jean’s normally bright golden eyes had grown dark, the outsides red and puffy from crying. His dusty blond hair, normally well kept, was a mess of tangles and knots. His cheeks were stained with trails from his tears. Armin didn’t say a word. He led Jean to his car and helped him in. Once he saw Jean drive away he let out a small sigh and, after getting in his own car, returned home with a heavy heart.

            That night Jean sat with all of the lights off in the house besides the little lamp that was perched on his desk. He pulled out a sheet of lined paper and a pen and began writing Marco’s eulogy for the funeral the next day. He spent hours writing and scratching entire pieces of paper. There were points where he would just stop and cry into his arms, staining the pages he was writing on.

            Armin came by several times to check on him. They lived in the same apartment building and it didn’t bother Armin to stop by and make sure he was okay. When Armin was over Jean put on an act. He would force a slight smile and listen to Armin halfheartedly. He wanted the visits to help but they just didn’t. Jean knew the only thing that could provide him some closure was the funeral the next day.

            During Armin’s final visit that night he made Jean a mug of hot chocolate. “I know it isn’t exactly how Marco use to make it, but he always talked about how much you loved hot chocolate.” Armin handed Jean the mug with a smile.

            “Thank you!” Jean was almost beaming. He accepted the mug with shaking hands and gave his friend a sweet smile. “Armin, I don’t think I would have been able to make it though this without you.”

            Armin gave Jean a loving smile and patted him gently on the head. “Get back to work you little softy and I will see you in the morning.” With that Armin left Jean to finish his work on the eulogy.

            A few hours passed and Jean was finally finished with his work. He stood from the desk gathering the papers in his arms and went to the room that he and Marco use to share. However, before going to bed, he held up the papers and began to read them aloud.

            “From the moment I first met you I knew you were special. It wasn’t your smile or your grades or those freckles that dotted your face. It was that little sparkle in your eyes that never seemed to fade. No matter what hardships you faced it was always there bringing hope and joy to those around you. It was clear to everyone that all you wanted was the happiness of others. That is why I fell in love with you.

            After high school all you ever talked about was finding some way to help people. It didn’t come as a surprise when you decided to join the army. I was so happy for you that I almost forgot how dangerous that decision was. But, you reassured me that things would be okay and that you would return to me no matter what. I hate to say we were both mistaken.

            When they news came that you were gone I could not accept it for myself. It wasn’t until they handed me your medals of honor and the flag that I realized it was real. Who am I kidding, it still doesn’t feel real. I keep thinking I will come home and there you will be sitting on the couch, your brown hair disheveled from a long day’s work. You would always read the paper until I returned home.

           Now you are not there. The house is empty and cold because there is a certain warmth missing from the room. Well, it’s not just the room; it’s my life as well. I know you died for a good cause and I know your death wasn’t your fault. You were special to everyone, not just me. I loved you with no bounds and the only thing I regret is not getting to say goodbye.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to anyone who read this. Please feel free to leave some feedback because it is greatly appreciated.


End file.
